Dead Bird   1 comment

I walked down the street and cried
As I passed her grave
Unmarked, rotten, and ant riddled.
Her life cut short, her wings clipped
She learned to fly. Learned to fall.
A life without purpose,
At least the one she wanted.
Now she feeds the ants instead.

– Shaman Romney 2016

Posted 10/12/2016 by Shaman in Poetry

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One response to “Dead Bird

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  1. Depressing. Lol

    Like

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